


change;

by BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse



Series: Bleach Time Travel One-Shots [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Death Wish, Gen, Good Aizen Sousuke, Introspection, Kyouka Suigetsu is Genderfluid, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, References to Depression, Sousuke Is Not Okay, Struggling Aizen Sousuke, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trauma, Underage Kissing, get on my level
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse/pseuds/BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse
Summary: Sousuke spends eighteen thousand years locked up and it changes his perspective on several things. He’s stuck in the lowest level of Muken without any interaction long enough that he’s gone past insane. He doesn’t talk to himself, doesn’t mutter replies to hallucinations, just sits there, his eyes closed. All he does is think. He thinks for so long that at one point, he’s not sure what it was like to not think. To not have only his own thoughts be his constant company.





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> why so much aizen and time travel, you ask
> 
> fuck u thats why, i reply
> 
> basically i wanted to write from aizen's pov but im not good at characterization so instead lets go with a traumatized!aizen, who would be all over th fucking place

Sousuke spends eighteen thousand years locked up and it changes his perspective on several things. He’s stuck in the lowest level of Muken without any interaction long enough that he’s gone past insane. He doesn’t talk to himself, doesn’t mutter replies to hallucinations, just sits there, his eyes closed. All he does is think. He thinks for so long that at one point, he’s not sure what it was like to not think. To not have only his own thoughts be his constant company. Soul Society moves on, forgets him, and he’s withering away when he finally cracks his eye open to take in the figure before him.

They have incredibly bright hair, and for a second, Sousuke sees Kurosaki Ichigo in front of him, hair that ridiculous orange. But soon the image fades, the orange turns more auburn, and the figure slims down to a frowning woman. Sousuke hasn’t had a visitor in over twelve thousand years, so he can’t deny the burning curiosity he feels at her appearance.

“It’s curious,” the woman says, her voice a soft lilt. The volume of the voice doesn’t stop it from ringing in Sousuke’s ears. He grunts, grimacing at the breach of silence. His ears are unadjusted to noises that aren’t the brief crinkle of clothing when he adjusts his sitting position. “That you are the one that lives forever. Tell me, Aizen Sousuke, would you die if you were given the chance?”

Souske closes his eyes then, trying to control his breathing. Thousands of years ago he would’ve scoffed at the question. Of course he wouldn’t want to die. He became immortal for a reason; he was a god amongst men! Now though, now that he’s finally within sight of the end of his sentence, all he feels is tired. He holds no more dreams, looks forward to no new goals. Maybe at one point he saw a light at the end of the tunnel, calculating glee that he would be the only one to remember how dangerous he was, but that Sousuke was a fool. That Sousuke had not only had himself for company for over ten thousand years.

“I would die here if you were that merciful,” Sousuke confesses, his throat immediately raw. He hacks out a cough, his violent wretches wracking havoc on his vocal cords. He hasn’t spoken out loud, even to himself, in so long that it now hurts to utter even a single word. He lets his eyes crack open though, desperate to see the woman’s face at his response.

The woman’s frown turns into a tranquil smile, her eyes a warm gold. That gold is like liquid fire, Sousuke can’t help but notice. There is only white and black in his prison, no saturated color to break the trying monotony. This woman, with her auburn locks and golden eyes, is like a rainbow to his deprived sight.

“Then, Aizen Sousuke, let’s see if you will once more seek to live,” is the reply he receives.

Sousuke doesn’t understand her answer, just stares warily as she approaches his chair. He wonders, suddenly, if his time is up. If his sentence in served and that this unknown woman is here to release him from his binds. His heartbeat picks up and he starts to panic, his senses going haywire as he tries to lash out with his reiatsu. It’s been so long, he’s not ready to be released, not ready to have to face making decisions, calculating other people into his routine again. He’s choking on air when her fingertips graze his forehead.

He holds his breath, panicked gaze meeting her calm one. Reiatsu swirls slowly around them, his binds flickering and then floating away into dust. She gives him a gentle smile, a quirk of the lips tinged with hope, before he’s whisked away with a flash of white.

* * *

 

He wakes up because there is sun burning across his closed eyelids. He doesn’t register it at first, doesn’t understand what the warmth and sharp lighting mean, but when he gets his mind to focus, he gasps, sitting up abruptly and opening his eyes to a burning light. He has to force them closed immediately after, spots floating in his vision and a ringing in his head. His entire body feels weightless and sensitive to the touch. He spent so long under restrictive reiatsu bindings that now that its free from him, he feels like he weighs a hundred pounds lighter. He can feel it swirling around him chaotically, sharp and course against his skin as it spins. He has to focus on his breathing though, trying to get it regulated and away from the panic it is inching towards.

‘ _Sousuke_ ,’ a whisper permeates the pain and suddenly he is no longer laying down, but standing up with his eyes wide open. The landscapes around him his disorienting, the sky above him blue with small clouds, the exact image of the ground below him. There’s a glimmer, a small sheen in front of him, and then there stands Kyouka Suigetsu. Sousuke’s breath catches in his throat as he stares at his zanpakuto spirit, so long gone from his memory until this moment. Their hair is long and black, just like the first time he met them. Suigetsu changed masks every time Sousuke saw them, changed genders and identities at their fickle flights of fancy, so to see them as they were the first time Sousuke met them is a statement that he can’t quite decipher.

‘ _Sousuke_ ,’ Suigetsu says once more, their masked face doing nothing to muffle the pain behind the voice. It causes a stab to go through Sousuke’s chest as he realizes that this is the first time he’s heard his zanpakuto since he shoved the hogyoku into his chest. This will be the first time in thousands of years that his zanpakuto spirit has gotten him to hear their desperate pleas.

“Kyouka Suigetsu,” Aizen replies, voice strained as his knees tremble. He feels so weak, so helpless as he faces his zanpakuto spirit, but he can do nothing to change this. He is no longer what he once was. He is so far past humbled that he will accept any punishment his spirit feels he deserves.

Instead of attacking him or turning their back on him, Suigetsu open their arms, their long-sleeved white kimono bared to Sousuke’s longing gaze. ‘ _Sousuke_ ,’ they say again, their tone now imploring.

Sousuke sobs and pushes forward, collapsing into their waiting arms. The mirror world around them trembles, the sound of breaking glass fracturing around them. Sousuke doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t wish to see how low he’s fallen, and instead stays within the steadying embrace. He keeps his eyes closed.

* * *

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Sousuke confesses, sitting on the edge of a random house’s roof as he stares at the Seireitei in front of him.

When he had finally detached himself from Suigetsu’s welcoming arms, he had done his best to collect his composure, ignoring the cracks that now lay beneath their feet. He had stayed bundled up in his inner world for an indeterminate amount of time before he knew he had to face whatever his fate was. When he had emerged into the real world he had been confused to find himself laying on the ground. When he took a cursory look around, he found himself to be in the Rukongai. He couldn’t quite pinpoint which district, though from the lack of crime being peddled on the streets, he had to be somewhere before the 50th district. How he found himself there, he couldn’t guess, but with a wary eye set on the direction of the Seireitei, he set off on foot.

He had been close to the gate, wondering through the 2nd district, when he had spotted something impossible. A fox-faced Gin had been talking smoothly to a grinning Matsumoto, their attention focused solely on each other. Sousuke’s brain had actually short-circuited for a brief moment before he regained enough composure to tightly reign in what little reiatsu he had been letting leak out.

The image before him had made no sense, the incredulous idea that these two had somehow lived long enough to see him released from Muken, when Suigetsu’s whispered observation reached his ears: ‘ _Sousuke, feel_.’

So Sousuke had stretched out a thin strand of his reiatsu, enough to get the general feel of the area around him, but hopefully not enough to draw the couple’s attention. Sliding his reiatsu against his own was a startling feeling and it made him vaguely nauseous to feel his power so cold. It was weaker than he was now, but it was far more colder and harder as well as heavier than what Sousuke was used to.

“How—?” he had questioned, his mind working furiously to try and find the solution to his predicament. It was when he felt a brief flicker across his senses that his veins turned to ice and he knew.

He hadn’t felt the reiatsu of his half-completed hogyoku for years before his imprisonment. To feel it once more, that flickering abomination, had sent a shiver of disgust up Sousuke’s spine. It had solidified the unbelievable truth of what exactly he was facing: he was in the long-forgotten past, before his defection and the subsequent war that had followed.

He now sits staring into the distance, thousands of decisions flashing before his mind. There is so many possibilities laid out before him and when once he would’ve been able to parse out the one that benefitted him the most, he is now out of his element, struggling with so many decisions when he has not had to make one in so very long.

‘ _Then don’t make one_ ,’ Suigetsu responds, their voice slightly stronger. They have slowly been regaining their strength during the week long treck towards their previously thought horrible fate. Suigetsu had helped him adjust to the lighting and sound that now surrounded him, so their progress was going slower than it usually would’ve of.

“Don’t make one,” Sousuke scoffed, scowl curling across his face, “I’m in the past! I have to, to do—,” he stops there, frustration causing him to huff out a long breath. What exactly does he have to do? There is a past version of him here, one who is blinded by his own superiority and the millions of wishes fighting for his attention. All his plans for his hogyoku, all the carefully laid plans, are insignificant to Sousuke now. He barely remembers the intricate web he once weaved around the Seireitei. The Gotei 13 exist in memory, but no longer does Sousuke seek to control and leash them like the god he used to think he was. Now, well, now all Sousuke wants to do is sleep for a few hundred years and then try to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do as a being over eighteen millennia old.

“Don’t make one,” he utters again, this time his voice dips towards a controlled wonder. No one knows he exists now. He is not under a watch or a lock and key. If he wants to leave, he can. He can go off somewhere and live how he wishes to live. No more prison. No more being alone.

“Right,” he nods to himself, standing. He gazes at his past for a moment longer, trying to scrape up some form of nostalgia. When nothing of the sort comes, he scoffs and turns his back, heading back the way he came. He needs to open a Senkaimon and he’d rather do that as far away from the Seireitei as he could get.

He chooses the human world purely because he can be no one there. He is handsome, so some attention may be paid to him, but he can negate this simply by keeping his shikai ability running. Everyone around him will see a plain looking man. His age somewhere in between 30 to 40 years. An average Japanese man who won’t gain a second glance.

He’s in a library, reading up on the technological advancements of the human world he had ignored the last go around, when a spike of reiatsu catches his attention. He thinks he’s wrong, at first, that he’s letting some obscure sense of longing cloud his judgement, but no, he’s not imagining anything. The burning inferno that is Kurosaki Ichigo passes by the library, spiking in light agitation every few seconds.

It burns against his senses, that reiatsu. It’s not as strong as what he remembers, that feeling when he truly comprehended that Kurosaki was so strong that he couldn’t even sense his gathered reiatsu, but it still sends an anticipatory shiver throughout his body. Of all things to suddenly crave with all his heart, seeing Kurosaki Ichigo for the first time in thousands of years was not one he thought he would ever have. Now though, that he can sense him, he can feel it clawing its way up his throat. That physical need to see the boy in the flesh causes him to stand abruptly from his seat, the legs of his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. He marches out, his determination blinding him to everything around him. He’s only focused on the white burn in his senses.

He exits the library and only needs to turn the corner to see him. The boy is scowling at someone, another boy who looks his age to Sousuke’s uncertain eyes, but he doesn’t really care. That orange hair, like fire in the sun, and those passionate brown eyes are almost exactly like Sousuke remembers them. He doesn’t quite know why he’s latched onto Kurosaki Ichigo’s image like he has, but he finds that he doesn’t want to let it go. He watches the boy continue on his way, his companion flailing after him, and he feels Suigetsu stir awake in his mind.

‘ _Then don’t let him go_ ,’ Suigetsu says, temptation swirling in his mind.

“Don’t let him go,” Sousuke replies, standing stock still as his mind whirls.

* * *

 

It doesn’t take much to squirrel his way into Urahara’s shoten and steal a gigai. He knows how to shape it to his appearance, to give the artificial body his looks, so it’s really no problem to take it and leave. Urahara has shields around his home, sure, but they are to protect him from the Aizen that lives now, not the altered Sousuke who isn’t quite a human spirit anymore. He leaves with no one in the shoten any the wiser he had infiltrated their home.

He takes a moment to decide where he’s going to insert himself into Kurosaki’s life before he picks the school. Urahara and his ilk don’t go there and Isshin, from what Sousuke remembers, ignored his son’s activities for the first sixteen years of his life. There was a very small chance that they would stumble by to sense the little reiatsu Sousuke didn’t have a tight handle on.

Convincing the administration that he had a teaching license was easy, Kyouka Suigetsu working their magic on the human’s senses. They all see him as an unremarkable man with dark hair and eyes, so the chance they could ever point him out is also low. He decides on teaching gym simply for the fact that he doesn’t need to know any specific human topic to half-ass any lessons. He knows how to train the body to fight, so taking that down a few notches to something resembling a simple exercise routine shouldn’t be that hard.

He debates for several days after gaining the job on what he’s going to do about his looks. The administration sees his illusions, that’s true, but if he uses his shikai on Kurosaki, then he would fall for Aizen’s tricks before and during the war. Suigetsu offers no more advice, so with some conflicted feelings, he places himself in the same area as Kurosaki and ambles along towards him, his sword illusioned to look like a cane. The reference to Urahara both delights and disgusts him, but he still feels his heart beat faster when he shoulders past Kurosaki, making sure to make it look like a mistake.

Kurosaki grunts, his shoulder flying back at the contact. Sousuke drops his ‘cane’ in front of the boy, eyes greedy as the boy shakes off his confusion and reaches down to pick up the cane. He startles back when the ‘cane’s’ illusion fades after his fingertips brush along cold steel. It was odd, watching someone else break the effects of his shikai. Sousuke is quick to gather his bare sword up, sheathing it. He nods briefly at Kurosaki’s startled and confused gaze before rushing away from him. Not subtle in the slightest, but it got the job done. Letting Kurosaki touch his blade meant that Kyouka Suigetsu will no longer work on him, even if their shikai is released before his very eyes. A move that Sousuke hopes will gain him some level of trust when his identity inevitably becomes revealed.

Human gym class is a lot like first year academy training. A lot of exercise, meant to improve health and stamina, as well as a lot of eager competition as the humans battle it out in several different sports. Sousuke’s attention isn’t held long, his eyes always looking off into a single direction, his reiatsu creeping out of his tight grip and darting forward, searching.

He spends the school day waiting for Kurosaki to appear, but he never does. Sousuke has seen him around the school, but it seems as if the teen barely attended gym class. It was frustrating, being close enough to him, yet still having him out of Sousuke’s sphere of influence. He’s on his way back to the empty apartment he’s squatting in when he finally feels Kurosaki’s reiatsu flare. Sousuke turns and runs towards it, all composure lost. He isn’t quite sure what he might stumble upon.

When he gets there, eyes gleaming, he’s surprised to see Kurosaki fighting a group of thugs and losing. Losing and Kurosaki didn’t really go together in Sousuke’s mind. Sure, the kid had to have lost at some point to want to get stronger. It wasn’t like Sousuke himself hadn’t thrown him around a bit during the war he had started. Still, there was something profoundly wrong seeing Ichigo curled up on his side, grunting with each kick that met his torso.

With a scowl and clenched hands, Sousuke swiftly intervened, taking down the thugs in three quick strikes. At the face of an older opponent, they suddenly scattered, running like the cowards they are. It pisses Sousuke off, that these lesser humans would treat Kurosaki the way they did.

“T-Thanks,” Kurosaki coughs behind him. Sousuke glances over his shoulder, watching as the frowning teen winces and tries to sit up.

“Three on one isn’t exactly an ideal situation,” Sousuke observes, taking in every detail he can. There’s swelling already happening on Kurosaki’s cheek, and the very beginning of a black eye is starting to form as his right eyes puffs out slightly.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t just let them mess with--,” Kurosaki groans, wobbling his way into standing upright. He stretches back, trying to unlock cramping muscles, before he continues, “—that little girl’s grave.”

Sousuke hadn’t been paying attention to anything but Kurosaki, but now that the teen has pointed it out, Sousuke can feel awed eyes staring at him. He turns to the source and is met with a little ghost girl, her big eyes staring at him in appreciation. She is standing in front of a knocked over plastic vase, some type of wild flower laying strewn across the pavement.

“You saved us both, Stranger-san,” the little girls says, bowing to him.

Sousuke shifts, eyeing the girl carefully. He hasn’t had to put on this mask in a long time, the congenial, laid back taichou, but it still shifts over his face, the false smile laced with lies. “I’m sorry they were harassing your grave. Hopefully they will leave you alone now.”

The girl gives him a gap-toothed grin before disappearing. She’ll need to be sent to Soul Society soon, her chain looking rather small, but for now he lets her go do whatever she had been doing before Kurosaki and he had intervened.

“You can see her.”

Sousuke blinks, turning back to look curiously at Kurosaki’s narrowed and assessing gaze. _Ah_.

“Yes,” Sousuke admits, keeping his posture relaxed and his false smile glued to his face.

Kurosaki’s eyes narrow even farther as he squinted at him, his shoulder stiffening to complete th picture of someone who is suspicious. It’s the exact opposite effect Sousuke was hoping for and it just builds his curiosity towards the teen to even higher heights. The Gotei 13 had eaten from his hands for hundreds of years, all blind lies. Yet here Kurosaki Ichigo is, suspicious immediately upon being face to face with his false mask.

“Right, well,” Kurosaki hesitates here, like he doesn’t quite know what to say. This must be new for him, realizing that there are other people out there who can see ghosts. Sousuke briefly wonders if Kuchiki Rukia was the first acquaintance he had that could also see what he did.

“Think nothing of it,” Sousuke says, his voice soothing. He wants close to Kurosaki, for some unfathomable reason, but he’s given so much away during their very brief encounter. He’d probably be more frustrated if he had gone this route originally. Now, when he’s a changed and disillusioned man with a past god complex, he just feels like pursing his lips at the vaguely sour taste it leaves in his mouth. Sousuke giving away the fact that he's more than he seems is something that he knew was some type of inevitability.

Sousuke turns away from the teen, though it pains him to do so. Kurosaki doesn't try to stop him or ask his name. Sousuke can feel the burning gaze on his neck, but Kurosaki is not forthcoming with any questions. As far as first meetings go, Sousuke knows that this could have gone much worse.

* * *

 

Sousuke had some reservations when Kuchiki Rukia showed up a few days later, shadowing Kurosaki by putting herself directly in his life. Sousuke had felt the hollow attack and the subsequent roar of reiatsu as Kurosaki took on Kuchiki’s shinigami powers. It was a rough debate to have with oneself, on whether or not he should interfere, but Suigesu had made an important point when they had first discovered their trip to the past: why interfere? Sousuke doesn’t particularly care about anyone but Kurosaki, and Sousuke knows that the teen lives after beating him, so why on earth should Sousuke stop anything from happening? In the larger scheme of things, Aizen’s plans will fall apart and Sousuke won’t have to lift a finger.

He keeps this mindset for weeks until he’s approached by Kurosaki.

“Are you a shinigami too?”

Sousuke pauses his actions, looking over his shoulder at the teen. He had been cleaning up after a rather boring game of soccer in his last gym class for the day, mind wandering as he packed the soccer balls away. He had been so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed Kurosaki approaching.

“Technically speaking, I suppose so,” Sousuke says, humming. He was once a shinigami. Sousuke isn’t quite sure what he would be classified as now. He still holds his shinigami appearance and abilities, but his soul structure must be affected in some way to have him be able to live thousands of years without one single sign of aging. As much as Sousuke hates to admit it, the hogyoku did things to him that he still doesn’t fully understand. “I haven’t been with the Gotei 13 in years, however.”

Kurosaki tilts his head, taking Sousuke in. “If you’re some type of deserter, why hasn’t Rukia said anything? She introduced me to all the shinigami in the area except for you.”

Sousuke looks up at Kurosaki with amusement, a fleeting smile crossing his face. Kurosaki really was too nosy for his own good. It was an interesting trait to hold, being simultaneously in the middle of things while also not holding back questions that lead to answers that don’t involve him. Kuchiki was under his zanpakuto’s shikai just like everyone else. Sousuke has been staying out of everything, being relatively good for a lack of better term, but now he wonders if maybe he should interfere just a little bit. It won’t change Kurosaki’s path in life, knowing about Sousuke’s shikai ability before he meets Aizen. Kurosaki doesn’t even see his past self until the entire ryoka affair is almost over. Knowing what Aizen’s shikai is will only aid him afterwards, and everyone will discover the truth at the exact same time anyway.

Besides, Sousuke had vowed to turn over a new leaf in some type of capacity.

“Have you learned about zanpakuto abilities yet?”

Kurosaki’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Right,” Sousuke nods, finally standing, making sure he faces Kurosaki. “First, you must understand what a zanpakuto is. They are not just simple swords that you wave around. The shape of your zanpakuto, as well as its abilities, are based on your reiatsu and your very soul. To gain access to these abilities, you must hear your zanpakuto’s name. It is not you _naming_ a sword. It is a piece of your soul, projected in the form of a weapon, calling out _to_ you.  They are born with us and they die with us. They are the very reflection of our hearts, Kurosaki-kun.”

Kurosaki looks intrigued by his words, his gaze sharp as Sousuke continues. “The abilities they display vary from soul to soul. They also have different, for a lack of a better word, ‘upgrades’. The first level is the sealed form. Active shinigami have sealed zanpakuto. It’s when they learn the name of their zanpakuto that they achieve the next level: shikai. Each individual shikai is different depending on the shinigami.”

“So, the reason Rukia hasn’t said anything is because of your shikai ability, whatever it is?” Kurosaki cuts in.

Sousuke smiles slightly, nodding in confirmation. “Yes, that is exactly it, Kurosaki-kun.”

“What is its ability?” Kurosaki asks, eyeing Sousuke. His zanpakuto isn’t on him at the moment, so Kurosaki’s searching gaze would not find it anywhere. It was almost a shame.

“Usually, just because you ask someone that, doesn’t mean that you’ll get an answer,” Sousuke chides slightly. He doesn’t really mean it though, because Kurosaki wouldn’t be Kurosaki if he was polite. “However, I’m feeling rather generous. Others will tell you, if they knew who I was, that my shikai was water based. The truth is, my shikai is actually complete hypnosis. I can ensnare the senses and convince anyone who has seen my shikai release of anything I want.”

Sousuke can immediately see the suspicion that briefly ignites in Kurosaki’s eyes, the wariness that comes with Sousuke’s overpowered shikai ability. Sousuke doesn’t know what he expects Kurosaki to do with the information, that’s half the fun of dealing with Kurosaki; you never know what the teen will pull out at the last second.

“Is there a way a stop its affects?” Kurosaki finally asks.

“Yes,” Sousuke answers smoothly. “You simply need to touch the sword to negate any and all future attempts at hypnosis.”

This gets a reaction. Kurosaki has never been stupid, and he immediately catches on. It was a small moment, their ‘accidental’ collision, but surely a ‘cane’ melting away into a sword would stick with someone as odd. “You--,” Kurosaki starts, jerking forward, but immediately closes his mouth when they hear a muffled shout outside of the equipment shed that they had been occupying.

“Ichigo!” Kuchiki Rukia’s voice echoes out. “Hurry up! How long does it take to talk to a sensei anyway?”

Kurosaki scowls, huffing at the interruption. He obviously has more he wants to say, questions and answers he is looking for, but he still turns towards the door, his shoulders hunched.

“Kurosaki-kun,” Sousuke interjects, bringing the teen to a halt. The boy looks over his shoulder, giving his indication that he’s listening. “Not all is as it seems in the shinigami’s world. Take some advice from someone who regularly deals with illusions: move forward with caution.”

Kurosaki leaves after his words, leaving Sousuke to watch his figure disappear behind the slowly closing door. He’s surprisingly calm, given the dire tone their conversation had turned towards. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish with his warning, but he doubts Kurosaki will think that much about it. Since being released, Sousuke had been relying a lot more on instinct than on any real planning. He knows for a fact that Kurosaki operates in much the same way. The past will either remain intact, or a shift has already begun that he hasn’t yet seen. Only time will truly tell.

* * *

 

“They took Rukia.”

Sousuke glances up, carefully taking in Kurosaki’s hunched form. There’s still some bandages peaking out from below his collar, and Sousuke has half a mind to lecture him on moving around while still hurt, but he remembers the implications of Kurosaki’s words far too well to really scold the boy. He had sensed Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji entering the human world four days ago and had been careful to curl his reiatsu tightly against him. The one weakness his shikai had, after all, was that those attuned to reiatsu would be able to sense Kyouka Suigetsu outside of any illusion placed before them. There was no need to ask for trouble.

“I’m going to train with Geta-boshi to get my powers back,” Kurosaki confesses, his hands gripped tight around his backpack strap.

“I see,” Sousuke answers, slowly standing. “What use do you have for me then, Kurosaki-kun?”

“You warned me,” Kurosaki states, face blank, “that something was going to happen.”

Sousuke shrugs in response. This incident hadn’t been what he was warning Kurosaki about, but it wasn’t like it didn’t lead to it. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me anything else? Geta-boshi is all for helping me get into fighting shape, but he hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming on who exactly I’m going to be meeting while in Soul Society.”

Sousuke wonders if having foreknowledge on those he’s going to fight will really affect the outcome of them. No matter how strong Sousuke stresses someone is, Kurosaki will still fight them. Even before gaining bankai, Kurosaki had been on par with some of the fuku-taichou. Afterwards, he held his own against Kuchiki Byakuya, who wasn’t exactly a pushover. No, Sousuke doubts giving him a few extra tips will really stop Kurosaki from rushing in and winning against the odds.

“Sure,” Sousuke agrees with a relaxed tone. “Let’s start with those a little closer to home. Urahara Kisuke is a banished criminal and letting anybody know that you associate with him is not a good idea.”

The shock on Kurosaki’s face was certainly entertaining.

* * *

 

Sousuke gives Kurosaki information in small handouts and offhanded comments. The teen returns to him every day after school, for the short time that is left until break. Sousuke shares information that most in the Seireitei wouldn’t want a ryoka to know. He gives hints that maybe Urahara and his ilk were banished on bogus charges, but he can’t give away the entire truth. Not without explaining how he came about such sensitive information.

“He doesn’t know his zanpakuto’s name?” Kurosaki asks, lounging on a chair as Sousuke organizes a corner of the equipment shed.

“No, Zaraki can’t hear his zanpakuto,” Sousuke answers, wiping his hands against his pants. Giving Kurosaki information on all the taichou was something that Urahara should’ve been doing, but it’s not like it affected Kurosaki the first time he busted his way into the Seireitei. Sousuke quirked an amused smile at this thought, though he made sure to hide it from Kurosaki’s assessing gaze.

“Kagami-sensei,” Kurosaki starts, shifting behind Sousuke. Hearing his false name from Kurosaki’s lips never failed to make him scowl internally, but it wasn’t like Sousuke had many options. Until Kurosaki confronted the Aizen Sousuke of this time, he was stuck being someone else. Granted, Sousuke had fallen into his role with little fight against it, so it wasn’t like he was rearing to return to being Aizen Sousuke. Aizen Sousuke didn’t get to freely talk to Kurosaki Ichigo like a valued mentor. Kagami-sensei, however, got to teach Kurosaki whatever he wanted, damn the consequences.

“Yes, Kurosaki-kun?”

“You’ve told me about a lot of different people,” Ichigo continues, “except for yourself.”

“Not true,” Sousuke interjects, turning a sardonic grin towards the teen. “You are one of the very few, and when I saw few, _I mean few_ , who know what my shikai ability is.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kurosaki slouches, glaring slightly at him.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Sousuke answers with a sigh. “The fact is, Kurosaki-kun, I can’t tell you much more. You go to train with Urahara in two days. Whatever that may entail. You will then make your way to Soul Society where you will attempt to rescue your friend from execution. While there, you will surely find out more about me than I really want you to know.” Sousuke can admit that he is slightly bitter. He has been building a comradery with Kurosaki for the past weeks, a budding relationship heading towards a possible friendship, but as soon as Kurosaki sees Aizen thrust his hand through Rukia’s chest, that bud will be nipped rather effectively.

“You know what I’ll learn and you don’t like it,” Kurosaki hypothesizes.

“Bingo,” Sousuke offers unironically. Aizen would never be caught speaking so informally or with as many references to the human world as Sousuke does. Quite frankly, it lets Sousuke pretend that they weren’t the same man. He needs as many reminders as he can get to assure himself that he no longer holds the insane dream of living forever.

Kurosaki changes the subject afterwards, something Sousuke is grateful for, but the concern still lingers with him the next two days. He gives his goodbye to the teen and watches him leave, finally heading to start his training with Urahara at the shoten. A vague uneasy feeling has been growing within him since their conversation.

Sousuke had his breakdown and subsequent reconstruction when Suigetsu had helped build him back up. He had panicked over being in the past and then moved on. He hadn’t, however, put much thought into how he got here. It was a large thing to overlook, Sousuke was aware, but he had been struggling to play as ignorant as possible. He hadn’t wanted to think of the auburn-haired woman who had looked at him with true pity. Now, with Kurosaki soon to be gone, Sousuke fears he might have to face that which he has been avoiding.

‘ _We could run_ ,’ Suigetsu suggested, chiming in. A brief image flashes across his mind. Suigetsu has been feeling rather feminine lately, and their hair is long and intricately pulled up into a pony tail. Their white kimono is now pink and mint green. Sousuke suspects they might be asking to be addressed as ‘she’ soon, but until they let him know, he’ll refrain from using specific gender pronouns.

“We can’t run,” Sousuke tells his zanpakuto spirit, sighing. They couldn’t, not with how invested he has become in watching Kurosaki progress from the other side of the line. His reluctance will be obsolete once Kurosaki returns with the complete image of Sousuke’s true character, but it will be nice while it lasts.

Suigetsu hums, obviously not agreeing, but knowing that Sousuke won’t change his mind. They are feeling each other out even now, the cracks in his inner world slowly correcting themselves. When a mirror cracks, the image is forever distorted. Sousuke will never be what he once was, but he doesn’t want to return to that desperately lonely state anyway. He is forging himself anew. If he must find out why and how he’s here in order to do that, he will.

For now, until Kurosaki returns with his verdict on Sousuke’s place in his life, he will continue to uphold his illusion. He will be an average man working an uninteresting job in a, on the surface, normal town. Sousuke will answer to ‘Kagami-sensei’ and smile his fake smile and wear his fake warmth like an armor. He will avoid the warehouse he knows exists and he will fight against the temptation to visit the Urahara shoten in disguise, curious if any of the occupants would be able to work out his true identity.

He will wait with patience and use his now shattered self-image to build himself into a better person than he ever was before.

 

 

 


	2. after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kurosaki,” Sousuke says tiredly, dropping any pretenses, “sit the fuck down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two! glad this is finally finished phew!

Sousuke is alone when Kurosaki comes to confront him.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Kurosaki shouts, his voice a growl. His eyes are narrowed and he’s out of his body, shinigami garb on and his overly large zanpakutou out and pointed at Sousuke. He’s curious about what exactly Kurosaki thinks he can do, seeing as the last time Kurosaki saw his face was when Aizen inevitably cut him down after stopping his swing with one finger.

“Welcome back, Kurosaki-kun,” Sousuke answers calmly, not twitching as the point of Kurosaki’s sword drifts slightly closer after he speaks. He stays seated at his desk, hands clasped in front of him as Kurosaki continues his outraged glare. Suigetsu’s emotions float upwards for a moment, their amusement at their situation present, before they pull themselves back in, leaving Sousuke to deal with the quickly escalating situation.

“What the hell, Aizen?” Kurosaki demands again.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Kurosaki-kun,” Sousuke gestures to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

“Like hell,” Kurosaki curses once more, his body tensing even more.

Sousuke sighs, bringing up his fingers to rub his temples, pointedly ignoring the jump in Kurosaki’s muscles at his simple movement. Sousuke knew that Kurosaki’s reaction to seeing him after witnessing Aizen’s betrayal wouldn’t be fun, but he was surprised at how fast his headache was forming. He had made his decision to interfere on Kurosaki’s behalf, and he accepted the consequences that came with that, but he found himself quickly losing both his composure and his temper. Maybe the knowledge that he had lost most, if not all, of the trust Kurosaki had given him was getting to him more than he ever thought it would?

“Kurosaki,” Sousuke says tiredly, dropping any pretenses, “sit the fuck down.”

Something about his tone must have reached past Kurosaki’s anger because he pauses for a moment, keeping his narrowed gaze on Sousuke’s hunched form. It takes him a moment, a clear deliberation of threat assessment, before Kurosaki lowers Zangetsu and then cautiously takes a seat. He doesn’t take his hand off his zanpakutou, but he is clearly willing to sit and listen for now, so Sousuke will count it as a win.

“My name is Aizen Sousuke,” he starts, ignoring the scoff Kurosaki offers at his confession. “Except, I am not the Aizen Sousuke who very recently betrayed the Gotei 13.”

Kurosaki’s brow is furrowed in confusion, but Sousuke presses forward, “I wish to stress that point: _I am not him_. Nor do I want the things he wants. He is a narcissistic megalomaniac with a delusional dream of godhood. He does not understand what it is to be human, what it is to feel as others do. That is what makes us different.” His words are true and they sting. Aizen hadn’t understood others. He was better at it now, with his ability to understand suffering. He always knew loneliness, the distinct feeling of being adrift without an anchor, but it is the suffering that makes him realize that human beings are far more than emotion fueled degenerates. To be human is to feel and it had taken Sousuke thousands of years to understand that concept.

“I don’t understand,” Kurosaki chews out, like he’s struggling with admitting that to Sousuke.

“To put it in simpler terms, I am an Aizen Sousuke from a different reality,” Sousuke doesn’t hesitate to tell this well constructed lie. He is from the future, but he has altered the past already. He doesn’t know if it is beyond repair, if time will force it back on the course that Sousuke is familiar with, but as far as Sousuke’s past goes, this life is not the same. Kurosaki knows things he didn’t once know, and he has advantages that this present Aizen knows nothing about. It is a lie for now, but more than likely an inevitable truth.

Kurosaki takes a moment to stare at him, incredulous. His mouth is open slightly, like if he had any less control, he would be openly gaping at him. It shoves some of the heavy feeling away, replacing it with a spark of amusement.

“You’re saying you’re from an alternate reality?” Kurosaki asks blankly, his gaping now over as he stares at Sousuke with exasperated judgement.

Sousuke brings himself to give the teen a slight smile, just the quirk of his lips, and Kurosaki groans loudly at the expression. “Fuck my life,” Kurosaki mutters, letting his head drop forward to rest against his chest.

* * *

 

Sousuke continue to marvel at Kuro—Ichigo’s (“Might as well call me Ichigo if you insist on being called Sousuke.”)—ability to roll with any and all punches. The teen wallows for only a few more moments before insisting that Sousuke talk to someone. Sousuke had noticed that Ichigo had come to confront him on his own, which was very foolish, and had asked the teen what he was talking about.

It was Sousuke’s turn to give a judging look when Ichigo insists that he go to Urahara Kisuke and share his knowledge.

“You’re not him, right? But you still have the same zanpakutou spirit, so you probably have the same abilities. If we get others to touch your blade, then they can break out of Aizen’s hypnosis.”

Sousuke hadn’t shared how bothered he was at the idea of Urahara Kisuke putting his grubby hands anywhere near Suigetsu, but Sousuke could admit that if Ichigo was going to insist that he meet with the man, that was a fast way in getting him to listen. By being able to see past Aizen’s hypnosis and illusions, Ichigo’s side will have a huge advantage in the upcoming war. Aizen is still powerful, but their zanpakutou ability was an invaluable boon in being able to go wherever they wanted without being hindered.

It is due to Ichigo’s encouragement that he now stands in front of the Urahara shoten, staring disdainfully at the entrance across the street. He doesn’t particularly want to go in, but Ichigo promised to warn Urahara away from attacking his surprise visitor whenever they finally stopped by.

Sousuke takes one step into the shop before Urahara has Benehime pointed directly at his face. It’s mere centimeters from his right eye, which is quite honestly both disconcerting and highly ironic. Sousuke curses Urahara for being a troll even without realizing it.

“Geta-boshi!” Ichigo yells, having been in front of the counter talking to the blonde before Sousuke entered.

Urahara doesn’t turn around, of course, far too familiar with Aizen to turn his back on Sousuke. “You didn’t tell me who your friend was, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Stop it,” Ichigo scowls as he stomps over to them. He glares for a second at Urahara before turning his full attention to Sousuke, nodding and then gesturing towards Suigetsu where they were strapped to his hip. “Let Geta-boshi touch them.”

Sousuke purses his lips slightly at the order, still not liking the idea, but he offers his hip nonetheless. Urahara won’t let him reach for his zanpakutou, that Sousuke is sure of, but the man will see an opportunity when it presents itself. Ichigo interferes on his behalf a second later, reaching out to grip Suigetsu’s hilt himself. “Touch the blade,” Ichigo says, addressing Urahara once more as he draws Suigetsu out of their sheath.

The man gives Ichigo an incredulous look, still holding Benehime steadily pointed at Sousuke’s eye.

“It breaks Aizen’s shikai ability,” Ichigo explains, scowling in return.

This catches Urahara off guard, his face darkening as he takes Sousuke in once more. He is Aizen Sousuke, they look identical, but Sousuke knows there is some difference between himself and his past self. His hair is longer and his posture must be different. Where Aizen is overconfident and relaxed, Sousuke is downtrodden and tense with bitterness. They project differently and a man as smart as Urahara Kisuke will catch onto that difference almost immediately. He must see it because he snaps his fingers, a flash of light before Sousuke’s eyes. He can feel the Shibireyubi trying to wrap itself around him to paralyze him. It is too weak to do anything to him, but because Ichigo is there Sousuke disgraces himself by immediately dropping to his knees, letting Urahara believe he has some type of control over the situation.

Urahara touches Suigetsu, sliding his pointer finds along the side of their blade. Ichigo pulls them away after a second, giving Urahara another angry look. Urahara doesn’t look repentant in the least, pulling his infuriatingly stupid hat forward to shade his eyes. Sousuke can still see his eyes, however, because of his kneeling position. They are sharp, as they look down at him, searching for something.

“Grab your friend, Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara instructs, turning his back. How confident he must be, Sousuke thinks, to turn his back. He must have such faith in Ichigo to allow these proceedings to continue. It’s truly mindboggling how much people believe in Ichigo.

“Sorry,” Ichigo grunts as he throws Sousuke’s limp arm over his shoulder, tugging him up and then dragging his limp form forward.

Sousuke can’t say anything less he reveals he isn’t actually paralyzed, but Suigetsu stirs once more, still held in Ichigo’s hand. The teen sends Sousuke’s zanpakutou a curious look, so Sousuke can correctly assume that the feeling of resigned acceptance reached him. They make their way to the back of the shoten, heading towards what Sousuke knows is the kitchen. Urahara’s lab is even farther back, hidden amongst a maze of corridors that seem too long to fit in a simple shop. It hadn’t been hard for Sousuke to navigate when he had broken in, but it would’ve immediately caused anyone else to become lost. Sousuke wonders if Urahara has noticed the missing gigai yet, or if he’s been so distracted with recent developments.

Ichigo deposits Sousuke carefully onto the floor, leaning his side against the low legged table. The kitchen doesn’t look much different than the one Sousuke has at his own apartment and it doesn’t hold his attention for long. Ichigo is fidgeting next to him, looking off towards a corner of the kitchen. Urahara is muttering something, the sound slightly muffled. Sousuke is burning with curiosity, but he keeps his head exactly where it is, still feigning paralysis.

“Who was that?” Ichigo asks as Urahara comes closer, his geta making clunky noises against the wooden floor. Urahara is a former Onmitsukido, so Sousuke wonders who he’s making the obvious noise for: Ichigo or him?

“Some mutual friends Aizen and I share,” Urahara states brightly, the sound of his fan opening whooshing behind Sousuke’s head. Sousuke has to struggle not to groan at his words. He can only hope that not all of the Visored are on their way. He can only stand dealing with a few of them at any one time.

“So, Aizen, care to share when you stole a gigai from me?” Urahara asks as he makes his way into Sousuke’s field of vision. He knows Sousuke can’t say anything in response, his words just simple taunts. Sousuke can’t narrow his eyes in response, but he still hopes his eyes communicate the annoyance he currently feels. They must because Urahara smiles at him, his grin cruel in its satisfaction.

“He says to call him Sousuke,” Ichigo butts in, not putting up with the pissing contest between the two former shinigami captains. His straight expression and chiding words almost cause Sousuke’s lips to twitch.

“Of course,” Urahara’s cheery expression doesn’t change, but his words are tight. He quite obviously doesn’t like this conversation, nor does he like the fact that Ichigo has shown favor towards him. Ichigo is even still gripping tightly onto Suigetsu, not giving them back to Sousuke, but also not letting Urahara anywhere near them again. It sends a flutter throughout Sousuke’s chest that he chooses to ignore. He can feel the content vibes Suigetsu is sending out and it doesn’t help him ignore the bubbling feelings.

There’s a soft sound behind him, a shifting of movement, before the cold prick of metal is resting against the back of his beck, Sousuke once more finding himself at sword point. Hirako Shinji had dropped his reiatsu blocking gigai as soon as he had seen Sousuke’s form and his reiatsu was bleeding with anger, the tinge of hollow Sousuke could feel was practically screaming for blood.

“Shinji,” Urahara states happily, delighted at the image the two were presenting.

Ichigo was nowhere near as happy, the teen springing up and whipping around to shout at the Visored, “What the hell do you think you’re doi—What the hell is that on your face?”

“Kisuke,” Hirako’s voice growls from behind him, the sound higher pitched than Sousuke remembers it being. The hollow mask, Sousuke realizes, must be overlaying over Hirako’s regular voice.

“Ichigo brought over a friend. He says his name is Sousuke,” Urahara answers Hirako’s unasked question, an unconcerned shrug being given in response to the incredulous look Hirako must have sent his way.

“Hey! I asked you a question!” Ichigo yelled beside him, his irritation at being ignored clouding his voice.

“This is ridiculous,” Sousuke sighs eventually, twisting around to face the blade pointed at him. The blade doesn’t move, leaving a small line being cut across his neck and then cheek, but he ignores it, looking up and freely meeting the cold gaze that is watching him. Urahara makes a disgruntled sound behind him, his fan snapping closed at the revelation that Sousuke had been faking his paralysis. “Please, take a seat, Hirako.”

The ex-captain doesn’t move from his spot, simply pushing his sword forward an inch or two where he had pulled back slightly at Sousuke’s words. It was once more pointed at his right eye. Sousuke tried not to twitch in exasperation, because _honestly_.

“What’s on your face?” Ichigo ground out, pointing accusingly at the white mask Hirako wore.

“It’s a hollow mask,” Sousuke answered the frustrated teen. “He went through hollowfication due to experiments Aizen performed. Remember how I told you about Urahara’s banishment? Aizen was the one behind it all. Framed them to get them out of his way.”

“Hollowfication?” Ichigo mutters in confusion, clearly latching onto the only thing that concerned him.

“Hirako, and the other Visored, are probably the ones that are going to teach you how to deal with your own hollow,” Sousuke offers up. Ichigo gives him a suspicious look, scowling at his words. The teen had never told Sousuke about his inner hollow, so him knowing about it anyway probably made the teen uncomfortable. Sousuke shrugged slightly in compensation. Ichigo knows he is from a different time; Sousuke knows a lot of things that people here have never told him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hirako asks, finally speaking up once more.

“Sousuke is from a different reality,” Ichigo replies, glaring at the man. “He’s here to help.”

This sentence gets both of them even more judgmental looks. Sousuke can already feel his headache from earlier slowly coming back.

* * *

 

Hirako touches Suigetsu with disdain, scoffing at the feel of them underneath his fingertips. Sousuke wants to snap at him afterwards, wring his neck for whatever thoughts he’s projecting Suigetsu’s way, but they are quickly immersed in what exactly Sousuke is doing in an alternate version of his own reality. Suigetsu finds their way back to his side eventually, after hours of shouting and debate. Ichigo gives them back to him with a nod and a lingering touch being placed upon Suigetsu’s naked form. It pleases something in Sousuke, watching the reverence Suigetsu deserves. His zanpakutou spirit didn’t always get the recognition they deserved, especially from Sousuke, so seeing someone else acknowledge their worth and feelings was incredibly pleasing.

Seeing the calculating gaze and hate filled sneer sent his way when he stepped out of his stolen gigai was anything but pleasing. The other two, or at least Urahara, would surely recognize the clothing he wore as old Muken garbs. They no longer did anything to hold his powers back, Sousuke had to do that on his own, but they were still distinct enough that they were recognizable. Him being seen in them probably did nothing to put him in any favorable light, but Sousuke can’t bring himself to care about their opinions. He only cares what Ichigo thinks about it, and the teen bats away any thoughts he has except for one: “What’s with the eyepatch?”

“Stylistic choice,” is what Sousuke shoots back at him, smirking slightly at the snort Ichigo gives in response. In truth, the eyepatch was the only piece of clothing that still held some type of binding kido to it. Sousuke could touch it and remove it if he wanted to, but some of the hogyoku’s power still lingered along his skin. It was easier to use the eyepatch to hide that flavor of power from his reiatsu. There isn’t much of a reason for the occupants of the room to know about the semi-successful attempt Sousuke made fusing with the orb.

“It’s been a long day,” Ichigo insists, yawning as he stands. We can come back tomorrow to continue arguing.”

Sousuke draws himself up after the teen, stepping into his previously discarded gigai. Suigetsu’s illusion of the man known as Kagami-sensei lays heavy over his skin and it’s interesting to watch Hirako and Urahara take in the shifting transformation. Now that tey have both touched his blade, they will be able to see past the illusion, seeing Sousuke standing there covered by a semi-translucent image of a nondescript man.

They can’t force Sousuke to stay, so they do their best to guarantee he will return with Ichigo the next day, Hirako promising to start Ichigo’s hollow training as soon as they get Sousuke’s situation sorted out. When the exit the shoten, the sun is close to setting, the fiery orange sky close to falling away to an inky blue night. Sousuke takes the opportunity to ignore his interrogators for the first time since he entered the shoten, waiting patiently as Ichigo gave his goodbyes. The teen makes his way over to Sousuke and then they start the trek towards Ichigo’s home without saying a word.

They bump shoulders accidentally as they stroll, a simple brush of clothing. Sousuke glances sideways at Ichigo and is pleased to see a light dusting of pink grace the teen’s face. Sousuke’s isn’t quite sure what exactly is going on between them, their relationship no longer mentor and mentoree, but he can’t deny that he is cautiously pleased that they are still _something_. Ichigo parts from him with a lackadaisical hand wave, the flush to his face giving away his forced nonchalance. Sousuke doesn’t call him on it, simply turns away and heads towards his own home.

‘ _It is not too late_ ,’ Suigetsu says, springing forth in his mind. They are wearing white once more, though their kimono is lined with shimmery gold patterns, fancy and detailed golden flowers lining their sleeves. They have golden flowers weaved throughout their long dark hair as well, a beautiful image.

“Hm?” Sousuke hums out loud, hands in his pockets as he meanders.

‘ _To leave_ ,’ Suigetsu explains. ‘ _We do not need to continue to interfere. The game has already changed.’_

Sousuke hums again in response, craning his head up to look at the slowly spearing stars. It was true; Sousuke had already interfered irrefutably. This present Aizen has no idea that the nuisance he sees as Urahara has just become his downfall. Ichigo is the only person who was ever able to meet Aizen blow for blow, but Sousuke in intimately familiar that Urahara Kisuke is the only person to ever meet his intellect, but also pass his genius. With Urahara being able to see past any of Aizen’s bullshit, the likelihood that this Aizen will get as far as Sousuke did is almost nonexistent.

A flash of memory, the brief sight of pink across Ichigo’s cheeks, is enough to dismiss the idea of leaving. “No,” Sousuke answers softly, his gaze no longer really taking the stars in. “I think it best we stick around for a while."

Suigetsu projects acceptance at his words, their amusement laced throughout.

* * *

 

Letting so many others touch his zanpakutou is a very real strain on his patience. Everyone that is thrusted in front of him, sneer ever present, is grating against his already high-strung nerves. The single saving grace to the entire time he is forced to interact with all those that consider him their enemy is Ichigo ever-present at his side. The teen openly scowls at and dismiss all who snap at him. It is not like he doesn’t deserve their harsh words or ugly attitudes; he does. He was the man that ruined their lives and reputations. To their knowledge, however, he is an alternate Aizen, one who has not committed the same crimes as the man who experimented on them. Still, Sousuke does not blame them for their anger. That doesn’t stop him from getting irritated at the constant bombardment of questions and accusations.

“Describe the Espada again,” Urahara asks for the third time, notes strewn across the table in front of him.

“Does he have to?” Ichigo groans from beside Sousuke, head falling down to lay on top of his crossed arms.

Sousuke sighs, beyond tired of the current proceedings. “You have physical descriptions of both their appearance and their abilities. Quite honestly, once you have those, the only thing that really mattes is their willingness to betray Aizen.”

“To betray you?” Urahara looks up at that, eyes gleaming,

“Him,” Ichigo corrects, his voice muffled.

“Him,” Sousuke stresses again, giving Urahara a tired look. “Most of the Espada feel beholden to Aizen. They are loyal to him. There are a couple, however, who would turn their backs on him if given the right incentive.”

Urahara doesn’t acknowledge their insistence on keeping Sousuke and Aizen apart as two separate beings, but he does flap his hand at Sousuke, encouraging him to continue as he scribbles something n the paper in front of him.

“There is the Tres Espada, Tier Harribel. She is only with Aizen because she believes he can help protect her fraccion. If you can guarantee they won’t come to any harm in battle, she will turn against him. Then the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, doesn’t much care for Aizen’s authority. Or any authority for that matter. He respects those who are strong, but Aizen’s willingness to let others fight his battles doesn’t sit right with him. I know for a fact that he becomes quite interested in Ichigo in my reality I doubt that would change.”

Ichigo looks curious at his words about Grimmjow, his face considering. Sousuke has no idea how close the two became. Sousuke had thought the Sexta Espada dead until his name was mentioned by a guard a few hundred years into his Muken sentence. He had been offhandedly mentioned as helping Ichigo with something, so the two must have struck up some kind of friendship by that time.

“Are there anymore willing to defect?” Urahara asks, hand quickly scribbling Sousuke’s information down.

“Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, the former Tres Espada, has already left the ranks and is currently suffering some type of amnesia as far as I’m aware. She wouldn’t want to fight with Aizen once she regains her memories anyway. The only other Espada I can think of that might consider it is Coyote Starrk. The Primera Espada is incredibly powerful and that makes it very difficult for others to be in his presence without dying. He follows Aizen because the man can stand to be around him. What Starkk hates most is loneliness. Offer him companions who can be around him without flinching and, who knows?”

Sousuke continues to offer up knowledge on what the Espada and Números are like. It’s an experience, combing through memories he had not thought of for millennium. There are certain arrancar that he can’t even picture, their powers and names escaping him. They are unimportant in the long run, so Sousuke returns his focus to those that he does remember. It is when describing Wonderweiss Margela nd his modifications that Sousuke remembers Aizen’s companions in betrayal. Tousen went along with Aizen with no ulterior motives. Gin, however—

“Ichimaru Gin is a double agent,” Sousuke offers at his revelation.

“What?” Urahara asks, almost dropping his pen.

“That guy with the creepy smile?” was Ichigo’s contribution to the conversation, his head now lying sideways against his arms so he could look directly at Sousuke.

“He specifically joined Aizen to kill him,” Sousuke goes on. “He witnessed Aizen and some of his cohorts steal some of Matsumoto Rangiku’s soul to feed to his hogyoku.”

Urahara has stopped taking notes at this point, his expression dangerous as he stares Sousuke down. Sousuke isn’t intimidated, just calmly meets the shopkeeper’s eyes. Ichigo is tense next to him, his muscles pulled tight in anticipation for a fight to break out. Instead, Urahara turns back to his notes, his face blank once more. Ichigo relaxes slightly next to him, nudging Sousuke’s knee with his own. Sousuke nudges back to comfort the teen, feeling him slump back into his former position.

* * *

 

They don’t allow him to come with them when the inevitably go to confront Aizen in Hueco Mundo. It is months earlier than when the war started in Sousuke’s time and if anything is pointing towards this past becoming a new reality it is this fact. Ichigo isn’t as strong as Aizen, not yet, but he doesn’t need to be. The shinigami and Gotei 13 are mobilized and hold the advantage over Aizen and his still growing arrancar army.

They are gone for weeks, long enough that Sousuke becomes marginally worried for Ichigo’s welfare. His worries are unfounded, however, when Ichigo and his ever-present followers troop back into Karakura Town three weeks after they departed. Ichigo is rather beat up, covered in bandages and unconscious when Sousuke makes his way over to Urahara’s shoten, but he’s alive, which is saying something about Ichigo’s continued perseverance. Sousuke wavers, uncertain if he should stick around by Ichigo’s bedside, but he knows he’s far outstayed his welcome in the shoten by the way Urahara is constantly following Sousuke with his eyes, gaze burning into Sousuke’s back.

He leaves Ichigo to recover from his battle, certain in Ichigo’s continued existence, so he is caught off guard when Benehime slices through his chest.

He is out of his gigai, lounging around the sports shed in preparations for the new school ear to begin, when he is stabbed through the back, sword piercing out of his chest. He looks down at it, blood coating his front as he registers the reiatsu signatures circling him. There are several outside the shed, Ukitake Juushirou and Kyouraku Shunsui amongst them, but it is the signatures inside the shed that mostly hold his attention. Urahara’s blood thirsty reiatsu is pressed tightly against his back, which helps identify his attacker. Hirako’s satisfaction bleeds into his reiatsu, the man himself appearing from behind a kido barrier the next second. With him, to Sousuke’s interest, is Kurosaki Isshin, whose still in his gigai. Another tightly leashed reiatsu signature is sitting guard on the roof, one identified as Shihouin Yoruichi when Sousuke gives it enough thought.

Sousuke is impressed at their ingenuity, to possibly find a kido barrier than he can’t sense being set up, but his thoughts fly out of his head when Urahara twists Benehime slightly, the burning pain in his chest intensifying. Sousuke is quick to draw Suigetsu, a muttered, “Shatter,” falling from his lips as he releases his shikai. Urahara forces Benehime farther through his chest, causing Sousuke to cough sharply, blood flying from his mouth.

“Your illusions won’t work on us,” Hirako says smugly, his own zanpakutou not even drawn. “You let Ichigo borrow your zanpakutou long enough for Isshin to negate the effects on himself.”

The words hurt worse than the sword through his chest. Their implication, that Ichigo was a part of this plan, that the teen was in agreement with their idea to literally stab him in the back, sends his stomach into freefall. Suigetsu in incensed, practically shaking in Sousuke’s hand. Sousuke meets Hirako’s eyes, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth, before he tightens his grip on his zanpakutou, gasping out, “Shatter,” once more.

Hirako scoffs at him, joining Isshin in rolling his eyes at Sousuke’s words. Urahara is muttering behind him now, a binding kido Sousuke is familiar with on the tip of his fingers. Sousuke hacks up even more blood, his reitsu lashing out once, before he collapses forward, Benehime sliding out of his chest and back as he pitches towards the ground. Or, at least, an image of him does.

He extracts himself from Benehime at the same time his illusion does, his face set into a deep grimace. He takes the chance to glance at Urahara, not surprised to find the man in his old Onmitsukido uniform. Suigetsu sustains the illusion, Urahara’s binding kido flaring to life as the man fires it at the prone image of Sousuke lying on the floor.

Sousuke hadn’t ever found much use for his bankai. His shikai, his ultimate hypnosis, was incredibly valuable to him when he had made his plans so long ago. The ability to ensnare the five senses and convince anyone of anything was a heady power to hold. His bankai, on the other hand, was not something he had thought he would really have to use. Why would he ever let anyone touch his naked blade, after all? His bankai, when activated, allowed all those immune to his shikai, and within a certain distance, to once more be able to be caught in his shikai’s hypnosis. It had its drawbacks over course. While anyone who touches his blade in shikai could negate the effects of his hypnosis until he released his bankai, any who touched his bankai would not fall to his hypnosis _ever again_. He had never wanted to take the chance that someone could grab ahold of Kyouka Suigetsu while they held their bankai form.

He glances down at his zanpakutou, taking in the pitch-black blade. There was no shine to their bankai form at all, the black so dark and matte it seemed to consume the light around it. Sousuke hadn’t seen this form centuries before he had made captain, so it was an unfamiliar sight now. He could see Suigetsu in his head, their white kimono now just as dark as their matching blade. Their face, once covered in a blank white mask, is now bare. They are beautiful, feminine features framed by meticulous lines of golden makeup. Their once long hair is short, a smart pixie now gracing their head. Dark brown eyes stare out, darker even than his own, narrowed at him in indignation. Their painted eyebrows are perfectly placed as well, arched upwards as they hiss angrily at the backstabbers from Sousuke’s inner world.

‘ _Kill them_ ,’ they insist, outrage flooding from them to Sousuke in waves.

‘I cannot,’ Sousuke answers in his head, unwilling to give away his position by speaking out loud.

‘Why?’ Suigetsu demands.

‘Ichigo,’ Sousuke responds, feeling the flinch Suigetsu releases. His zanpakutou spirits calms slightly at the name, brow still furrowed and indignation still clear, but no longer filling Sousuke’s head with the need for vengeance.

The illusion Sousuke that has been on the floor is hacking up blood violently, a small puddle forming beneath it. Urahara and Hirako had been joined by Shihouin at some point, the woman having not made a sound at her entrance.

“You need to hurry,” she is saying as Urahara works on something in his hands, his reiatsu building and then dropping intermittedly. “Ichigo must have sensed something because Tessai’s barrier has failed: he’s on his way here now.”

This catches Sousuke’s attention immediately. Does Shiouhin’s words mean that they were hiding this from Ichigo? That is was possible the teen had not wanted Sousuke’s death after all?

There’s a commotion outside suddenly, a loud shout of surprise followed by an outraged scream.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Ichigo’s voice shouts, his anger obvious.

Sousuke doesn’t waste a second, manipulating his illusion to make it so it seemingly drags itself up, surprising the four in the shed with him. They are surprised enough that he manages to leave the shed, the sun bright as both he and the after image stagger their way across the threshold.

Ichigo is glaring Ukitake down, Zangetsu grasped tightly in both of his hands. He turns to the entrance as soon as Sousuke makes his way out, eyes widening at the blood covering his front. He tracks the illusion’s fall as it collapses to the ground, but quickly glances back up at him, still standing.

Sousuke glances behind him, where his attackers have emerged from the shed, and then back to Ichigo. The teen doesn’t hesitate to draw his eyes away from him and then back to the illusion.

“What the hell happened?” Ichigo asks, bursting past the 13th division captain and slamming to his knees as he goes to Sousuke’s illusion. He attempts to stem some of the blood flow, grimacing when his hands meet solid flesh when he obviously had expected to have to fake the contact. He scowls even harder when he glances at the blood coating his hands.

“Aizen, no matter what version, can’t be allowed to live, Ichigo,” Shihouin answers him, her voice softer than she usually has it.

Ichigo growls at her in response, his reiatsu tinted with a hollow laced edge as he glares at her. “He helped us,” Ichigo states in response, gaze flickering towards his father as the man approaches.

“Ichigo, get away from him,” Kurosaki Isshin demands, frown harsh against his face.

Ichigo continues to try to top the illusion’s bleeding, ignoring his father’s command. “I don’t even want to know how the hell you’re involved in this,” the teen grumbled out, finally dismissing his father.

Sousuke forgot that Ichigo didn’t always know about his father’s past in the Gotei 13. It must be a shock now, to see him here amongst Ichigo’s allies as they stand over a slowly dying illusion of Sousuke.

“Ichigo,” Sousuke says, his illusion a stereo to his own words. Ichigo glances up very briefly at him, before he looks back down to the illusion beneath his hands.

“Yeah?” Ichigo asks, his throat swallowing loudly at his strangled words. All of the anger has seemingly melted away from his face, only concern and the sharp edge of fear now presenting itself.

“I’m sorry,” Sousuke settles on, choking up himself. “I wanted to a chance to change myself. I knew that if anyone could stop me, it would be you. You, who shine so brightly in the dark. I waited 18,000 years for the chance to die, and now I find myself wanting to live again.”

His words have left Ichigo flustered and confused, his comment about the amount of time he was imprisoned leaving all of those listening in shocked. They must be, at the idea that he has lived for thousands of years past what was previously thought possible. They never met with an Aizen who had fused with the hogyoku, after all, so they can’t even begin to understand what kind of being Sousuke is compared to their now fallen enemy. Sousuke is an entire class above Aizen when it comes to longevity.

“You can’t die,” Ichigo forces out, his eyes slowly turning from brown to gold, tears building in the corners. Sousuke can feel the hollow inside Ichigo growing stronger as he’s growing more and more emotional. Sousuke bends down next to the teen, his hand meeting his illusion hand as they both gently connect to touch Ichigo’s heated cheek.

“It is all I had hoped for, for so long,” he whispers into Ichigo’s ear, grimly delighted at the slight shiver the teens gives. “Perhaps it is time to give in.”

Sousuke brushes his thumb along Ichigo’s cheek bone, catching a few of the teen’s tears, before he retracts his hand, standing and taking a step back from the scene before him. His illusion is glowing slightly, the projected reiatsu around the figure flaking away into glowing white pieces. It’s a dramatically sad show, a shinigami dying in the arms of someone who cares, and Sousuke can see tat the others are eating it up. Everyone around him is grim with satisfaction at his death, the last knots between their shoulders being relieved as any reminder of Aizen is erased from their world. Ichigo, on the other hand, has started crying freely now, watching the illusion fall apart in his hands.

Sousuke wants to say something else, tell Ichigo about how deeply he has affected him, but his illusion is almost gone already. Within a few seconds, Ichigo’s arms are empty, even the blood having disintegrated into particles. The others around him start to approach him, but Ichigo lashes out with his reiatsu, his hollow mask slowly forming on his face.

“Leave,” he grinds out, looking up to glare menacingly at the people around him. Only Urahara hesitates as they all do as Ichigo asks, stopping by the teen before he can fully pass him.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Kurosaki-kun,” the man offers, quickly following the others when Ichigo lashes out with Zangetsu.

Sousuke stays silent as the others disappear from the school courtyard, only Ichigo and Sousuke left in the silent afternoon.

“How—” Ichigo starts, his voice trembling, before he shakes his head, hollow mask leaving as quickly as it formed. “I’m sorry. That I couldn’t stop them.”

Sousuke watches the teen, who stays on the ground before him. He doesn’t look up, even when Sousuke kneels before him once more. His eyes are still slightly golden, his hollow still close to the surface, and it strikes Sousuke that they are almost identical to the woman who sent him back in time. It’s a curious discovery, one he will examine at a later date. Now, he brings his hands to cup Ichigo’s face one more time. He forces the teen to look at him, all anguished sincerity visible for Sousuke’s perusal.

Without a second thought, Sousuke’s brings Ichigo’s face closer and brushes a light kiss against the teen’s mouth. Ichigo doesn’t even hesitate, bringing his own hands up to grasp Sousuke’s wrists in desperation, their light kiss turning rougher. It doesn’t last long, Sousuke pulls away before it can, but it feels like it lasts for hours, Sousuke’s mouth hot against Ichigo’s own.

Sousuke’s licks his lips as they part, leaning his forehead against Ichigo’s own. The teen’s eyes are closed, and his mouth is still parted slightly, his face pinker than Sousuke has ever seen it before. Sousuke takes this image in, desperate to have it committed to memory, regardless of how ever many years Sousuke continues to exist. Sousuke can feel his wound closing and he knows that his time with Ichigo is up.

With a parting hum, Sousuke extracts himself from Ichigo’s grip and disappears before Ichigo can open his eyes once more.

* * *

 

“It’s curious,” Sousuke finds himself saying, warm tea cupped in his hands. The shop he’s in is small, the hostess and Sousuke being the only two in the building at such a late hour. They will be open for another thirty minutes, though the girl who brought his tea has been giving him looks for the past five minutes, obviously wanting to start cleaning early in order to close sooner.

‘ _What is?_ ’ Suigetsu asks idly.

“The figure who sent us back. How familiar she looked,” Sousuke says, ignoring the odd look the girl sends him as he seemingly talked to himself. She stops wiping the counter, making her way towards the back of the shop. She disappears behind the swinging doors and Sousuke finds himself smirking slightly. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Kyouka Suigetsu?”

Auburn hair twists in his mind, golden eyes flashing in amusement. There is a curl to the lips that grace the delicate face that is open to him. Suigetsu is wearing a white kimono once more, untarnished by any other detail. Their hair and eyes are the only splash of color to grace his vision. The mask that once kept their face hidden is gone for good, painted eyebrows quirking up in silent laughter.

‘ _No_ ,’ they respond, delight clouding their voice. ‘ _I think all has been said and done._ ’

Sousuke sips his tea, his own smile barely visible behind his teacup. _All has been said and done, indeed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in case anyone is confused, i made it so sousuke's bankai was the ability to start over with his shikai; it allowed him to use it again on any that had grabbed his blade.
> 
> in reality, his bankai is more complex than that. it literally turns back time in a certain manner of speaking. it restores something to a previous state (kind of like orihime's healing but not really??). it allows him to do a hard reboot on people's perceptions.
> 
> it is heavily implied at the end that suigetsu had something to do with them going back in time; they did, but they're not sharing. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a two-shot because there is a before ichigo knew and an after ichigo knew
> 
> also i have no idea where suigetsu being genderfluid came from but once i considered it i loved it. u can drag my headcanon from my cold hollow like hands
> 
> also: listen to bad liar by imagine dragons and picture pre-betrayal aizen. perfection.


End file.
